Deadly Obsession

by DS Butler

  “No, no,” Rachel said, backing away. “I shouldn’t even have mentioned Victoria. I was just being stupid. Just forget it, please.”

  “Ah, Detective Mackinnon, isn’t it?” A female voice asked.

  Mackinnon turned. Belinda Cleeves stood behind him with her back to the setting sun, so she appeared as a silhouette, and Mackinnon couldn’t see her face clearly to judge her expression.

  He heard Rachel gasp.

  “Rachel, invite the detective inside. It’s vulgar to stand around talking on street corners,” Belinda Cleeves said.

  Rachel gave a little bob of her head. “Yes, Mother.”

  The three of them stepped back inside the cool reception. Belinda Cleeves turned to the receptionist, who was watching them eagerly. “Go and get yourself a cup of tea, Pippa, dear.”

  “That’s all right, Madame Cleeves. I’ve only just had one.”

  Belinda Cleeves glared at the girl until she scurried away.

  “Now, Detective,” Belinda Cleeves said, turning to Mackinnon, “what can we do to help?”

  Rachel stared miserably at the floor.

  Mackinnon had wanted to get the list of names from Rachel because he thought that would be the quickest and easiest way to get the information. Belinda Cleeves could cause trouble. He didn’t think she’d hand over any information willingly.

  He hoped by asking Rachel, he could get the names without having to wait around for a warrant. Paperwork slowed things down. And right now, with two missing girls, possibly more, time was something he lacked.

  But now Belinda Cleeves stood in front of him, her tiny body tense, and a furious scowl on her face. He didn’t have much choice.

  “I’d like a list of all the students who left your Star Academy to work on cruise ships.”

  “Whatever for?” Belinda Cleeves asked, frowning.

  “You mentioned other girls left before Anya, to work on cruise liners.”

  “Yes, it’s quite common, I’m afraid, but why do you need a list?”

  “Process of elimination,” Mackinnon said

  Belinda Cleeves eyed him suspiciously. “All right I’ll see what I can do. Give me an hour and I’ll email it to you.”

  “I don’t mind waiting,” Mackinnon said.

  “I’m sure you have more important things to do, Detective. If you give me your email address, I’ll email the list to you in an hour.”

  Mackinnon handed over another business card. He was on the verge of telling Belinda Cleeves he left his card with her husband this morning but remembered Rachel had probably taken it before she called him. So he handed Belinda Cleeves a new card and kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to add to Rachel’s troubles. It was better for Rachel if her mother didn’t know she’d told Mackinnon about Victoria Trent.

  Belinda Cleeves accepted Mackinnon’s card with a perfunctory nod and turned to her daughter. “Come along, Rachel. You have a class starting in five minutes.”

  Rachel glanced back at Mackinnon as she was whisked along by her mother. Her eyes looked sad underneath her lowered lashes.

  Mackinnon didn’t understand. If she were that miserable, why didn’t she just leave?

  27

  With an hour to kill before he could get his hands on the list Belinda Cleeves promised him, Mackinnon decided to pay a house visit and check out Nathan’s alibi.

  Mackinnon caught the DLR from Bank to Limehouse, then walked the short distance to Salmon Lane.

  Anita Simeon lived in a three-storey townhouse. Mackinnon paused outside. Collins had said she was a dancer, but she had to be a pretty successful one if she could afford a place like this. Mackinnon rang the doorbell and waited.

  The door opened, and a young girl with big, brown eyes stared out at him. He guessed she was about fifteen.

  “I’m looking for Anita Simeon. My name’s DS Mackinnon.” He held out his warrant card.

  The girl’s eyes opened wide, and she raised a hand to her mouth. “That’s me. What’s wrong? Has there been an accident?”

  Mackinnon shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  “I suppose you’d better come inside,” Anita said, stepping back into the hallway to let Mackinnon in.

  Mackinnon’s immediate impression was the house had to belong to someone older than Anita. The frilly lace over the hall table, the fussy wallpaper and watercolours lined up on the wall all reflected an older person’s tastes.

  “Come through,” Anita said, leading the way into the front room.

  “Sorry, if I seem jumpy. I just thought the worst when you said you were a policeman. I thought something had happened to my mum and dad.”

  “Do you live with your parents?” Mackinnon asked.

  Anita nodded.

  Mackinnon paused for a moment, then said, “How old are you, Anita?”

  “I’m seventeen.”

  The surprise must have registered on Mackinnon’s face because she said, “Oh, I know I look younger. I get people saying that to me all the time.” She shrugged.

  “Do you know a man called Nathan Cleeves?” Mackinnon asked.

  “Nathan?” Her eyes narrowed, and her body tensed. She was suddenly wary. “Yes, I know Nathan.” She plucked at the sleeve of her fluffy, pink jumper. “Why? Is he in trouble?”

  “No,” Mackinnon said. “It’s just a routine enquiry. Did you see him on Wednesday?”

  “Wednesday?” Anita repeated, staring down at her pink, oversized slippers. “Yes, I did see him on Wednesday night.” Anita cradled her wrist in one hand and winced.

  “Have you hurt yourself?” Mackinnon asked.

  “Not really. I sprained it.”

  “Can you tell me what time you saw Nathan on Wednesday evening?”

  “Um…” Anita chewed her lower lip before answering. “He arrived here around eight thirty, and we watched a couple of DVDs in my room.”

  Mackinnon nodded. “And what time did he leave?”

  “Well…” Anita shot an anxious look at the door. “It’s … well, you see … my parents don’t know. You won’t tell them, will you?”

  Mackinnon shook his head.

  Anita took a deep breath, then said, “He pretended to go home at ten, but I let him in the back door again just a few minutes later. My parents don’t like him spending the night, you see.”

  “I see, so Nathan stayed the night with you?”

  Anita nodded. “My parents will kill me if they find out.”

  Mackinnon sympathised with her parents. Nathan Cleeves was almost forty, and he was sneaking into a house to sleep with a girl barely past the age of consent. It made Mackinnon’s skin crawl.

  “Is that it, then?” Anita asked and looked at her watch. “Only, my parents will be home soon, and they’ll jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  Mackinnon stood up. “Thanks for your help, Anita. I appreciate it.”

  He held out his hand, and as Anita reached to shake it, the sleeve of her jumper moved, revealing a purple, circular bruise on her forearm.

  “That looks painful,” Mackinnon said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Anita said, pulling down her sleeve.

  It didn’t look like nothing. It looked as if someone had gripped her arm so tightly they’d left behind a finger-shaped bruise. It looked like abuse.

  Mackinnon left the house, fuming. More determined than ever to find something on Nathan Cleeves.

  28

  Mackinnon walked into Wood Street Station, scrolling through the emails on his phone. It had been over an hour since he’d spoken to Belinda Cleeves, and there was still no sign of the e-mail she promised to send.

  As he walked into the open plan offices on the second floor, the heat of the room hit him. He flung his jacket over a chair and stood beside Collins’ desk. “Any news?”

  Collins shook his head.

  “Maybe I should ring her,” Mackinnon said. “Maybe she typed the e-mail address in wrong?”

  “I think she
’s probably doing it on purpose,” Collins said. “She wants us to know she’s in charge.”

  Mackinnon pulled over a chair and slumped down into it.

  “In that case, I’ll speak to the DI about getting a warrant,” Mackinnon said. “We don’t have time for her attitude.”

  Mackinnon rubbed a hand over his face, then circled his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. He felt weary to the bone.

  “I need a coffee,” Mackinnon said. “If that e-mail doesn’t arrive by the time I get back, I’ll start the paperwork for the warrant.”

  Collins nodded as Mackinnon got to his feet.

  “Do you want a coffee?” Mackinnon asked.

  Collins pointed to his half-empty cup on the desk. “I’ve still got one, thanks. How did it go at Anita Simeon’s? Did she confirm Nathan’s alibi?”

  “She confirmed Nathan Cleeves is a scumbag.”

  Collins raised an eyebrow. “I already knew that.”

  “All right then, she confirmed he’s even more of a scumbag than we originally thought. She’s seventeen, Nick. Seventeen. She looks young for her age too.”

  “Seventeen?” Collins stared at Mackinnon. “But he’s…” Collins rummaged through the paperwork on his desk, found the piece of paper he was looking for and stabbed at it with his finger. “He’s practically forty.”

  “Creepy, isn’t it? But she did confirm his alibi. She told me he snuck back into the house after her parents went to bed.”

  Collins’ upper lip curved with disgust.

  “That’s not all. She had a bruise on her wrist, like someone had grabbed her.” Mackinnon encircled his wrist with his fingers, remembering the pink and purple marks on Anita Simeon’s arm.

  “Bastard,” Collins said.

  “I don’t know if it was Nathan who hurt her. She didn’t want to talk to me about it.”

  “I bet it was.” Collins said. He leaned forward, put his elbows on the desk, then rested his head in his hands. “Why didn’t I listen to Henryk Blonksi on Tuesday morning?”

  “You did.”

  “I didn’t pay enough attention.”

  Mackinnon put a hand on Collins’ shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You couldn’t have predicted what happened to Henryk Blonski. No one could.”

  “I spoke to Brookbank earlier, and he said the same thing.”

  “Brookbank?”

  “The DCI in charge of MIT.”

  Mackinnon nodded. “I’ve heard of him. Have they got anything new on the Blonski murder?”

  “Bits and pieces. They’re looking into a couple of shady characters, who worked with Blonski when he first arrived in the UK. At the moment, they don’t have any evidence to suggest that Henryk’s death is linked to his sister’s disappearance.”

  “Big coincidence.”

  “Brookbank said he’s keeping an open mind, but MIT are looking into the possibility he might have been a pimp.”

  Mackinnon frowned. That didn’t fit with what Mackinnon knew about Henryk Blonski. But MIT were working the case now, so perhaps they’d uncovered more information. Maybe Henryk Blonski wasn’t as much of an upright citizen as he first thought.

  “I’ve never spoken to Brookbank before; what’s he like?” Mackinnon asked.

  Mackinnon was keen to move to the Major Investigation Team, but he’d heard Brookbank often described as a hard task master.

  Collins paused for a moment before answering. “He’s certainly a personality. A bit domineering perhaps, but he’s probably very nice, once you get to know him.” Collins looked around the office and seemed relieved when no one seemed to be paying attention to their conversation.

  He left Collins to his paperwork and went in search of coffee.

  On his return, he noticed Collins hunched over the front of his computer monitor. His face was drained of colour.

  Mackinnon put his coffee cup down on his desk and walked over to Collins. “What is it, Nick? Did she send the email?”

  Collins looked up, and something in his eyes made Mackinnon’s stomach plummet to his shoes.

  “Jesus, Jack” Collins said. “There’s eight of them. Eight girls.”

  ***

  They took the news straight to DI Green. Mackinnon watched the detective inspector’s face tense as he read the names on the list.

  “Have all these girls been reported missing by their families?” DI Green asked, his voice hoarse.

  “Seven of the girls are on the missing persons list, sir,” Collins said.

  “Seven girls. Shit.” DI Green picked up the phone, waited a moment, then spoke into the handset. “I need to speak to Superintendent Wright … as soon as possible … Yes, it’s very urgent.”

  DI Green replaced the receiver and chewed on his bottom lip. Then, as if he’d just remembered Mackinnon and Collins were in the room with him, he looked up.

  “We’re going to need extra bodies on this. Staff shortages or not, we can’t handle this on our own.” He swallowed. “Okay, first things first. Collins, you speak to DCI Brookbank and let MIT know about this development. Then I want you to double-check those names against the misper list again – check next of kin contact details. We’re going to need–”

  “We do have contact details for next of kin,” Collins said. “Belinda Cleeves sent them over with the names. I’m not sure if they are up to date, but–”

  “Okay, good. We have to contact their families. We need to know if these girls have shown up and are only still on the list because no one bothered to inform us. We’ll look bloody stupid if these girls are at home, safely tucked up in bed.”

  DI Green paused, biting down on his lip again. “And for God’s sake, when you speak to the families, just tell them it’s a routine, missing person follow-up. We don’t want to trigger mass panic.”

  DI Green rubbed a hand over his creased brow. “We can’t miss anything. If these girls are missing, we’ll need to check bank accounts, phone records…” He shook his head. “I hope to God this is a false alarm.”

  DI Green’s phone rang, and he snatched it up, nodding once before saying, “I’ll be right there.”

  DI Green stood up. “I’m going to see the super now. You know what to do?”

  “Sir,” Mackinnon said. “I was going to pay a visit to Victoria Trent’s parents. They live in Bethnal Green. She’s only just gone missing, so the details should be fresher for her parents. They might remember more than the others. They might remember a new friend she made, or some detail about the Star Academy … Help us narrow it down.”

  “I know who it is,” Collins said. “Nathan Cleeves.”

  “We don’t know that, Collins,” DI Green said. “We have to pursue every line of enquiry. Jack, visit Victoria Trent’s parents, then get back here as soon as you can, all right? I’ll set up a time for a briefing tonight.”

  Mackinnon nodded.

  “And don’t worry the parents,” DI Green said as he gathered up the files on his desk and tucked them under one arm. “Routine enquiry. You know the drill.”

  As Mackinnon and Collins followed DI Green out of his office, Collins turned to Mackinnon. “Looks like we’ll be working overtime tonight, Jack.”

  29

  Victoria woke up with her cheek pressed against the cold stone floor. One of her arms lay trapped beneath her body, and as she stirred, she felt the rush of pins and needles.

  She lay on the ground for a moment, blinking up at the light bulb hanging in the centre of the ceiling, and wondered where the hell she was. Then it all came flooding back. The fake audition, the injection … Anya.

  She pulled herself up.

  “Anya?”

  There was no answer.

  Victoria got on her hands and knees, ready to crawl towards the corner of the room where Anya was sitting earlier, but something had hold of her leg.

  She screamed in terror and tried to scramble away, before realising it was only a rope. She was tied to something. It was hard to see in the dim light. The low watt
age light bulb was useless.

  She ran her fingers down her leg until they came to rest on the coarse, thin rope and tried to find the knot so she could free herself, but it was hopeless. Maybe she could untie the other end of the rope? She just had to find whatever it was he tied her to. Her fingers ran along the length of the scratchy nylon until they met with a smooth, cold, metal ring bolted to the wall.

  He had shackled her to the wall.

  A low, terrified moan escaped from her mouth.

  “Anya! Anya!” Victoria shouted, panicking. “Where are you?”

  “What is it?” Anya asked, her voice sharp with irritation.

  “He’s tied me to the wall. What should I do?”

  Anya was quiet for a moment, then said, “We wait. It’s all we can do.”

  Victoria sat back on her heels. She couldn’t just wait. She had to get free and find something she could use as a weapon.

  Victoria started to move forward on all fours, spreading her hands to feel over the ground, looking for something … anything she could use as a weapon. She winced as something sharp sliced her palm. She raised it to her mouth and tasted the salty blood. It wasn’t a bad cut, but with all the dirt on the floor, it would probably become infected. As soon as she managed to get out of here, she’d get it seen too. It wouldn’t be long now.

  He’d picked the wrong person to be a victim. Victoria promised herself a long time ago she would never live in fear again. Okay, so her mother had never shown her any affection during her entire miserable childhood, and her stepfather might have knocked her about and used her as a human ashtray. But they did teach her one thing.

  Survival.

  “Help me, Anya. We need to find something to arm ourselves with so we can fight when he comes back.”

  Anya didn’t answer. She remained hunched over in the corner.

  Victoria was starting to lose patience. Couldn’t Anya see the danger they were in?

  “For God’s sake, Anya. What is wrong with you? We need to work together.”

  “Leave me alone,” Anya said. “I don’t need to work with you. I don’t want to be your friend.”

  Victoria paused in her search, her hand hovering above the floor. Stung by Anya’s words, she blinked back tears, but there was no time for hurt feelings. She took a deep breath.